


A Gentle Dusting of Kittens

by auclairdusoleil



Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types, Romeo et Juliette - Presgurvic
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Kittens, M/M, Modern AU, Not Production-Specific, POV Alternating, Texting, Weddings, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:35:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22069393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auclairdusoleil/pseuds/auclairdusoleil
Summary: Well damn, he thinks. Time for a quick mental review of the situation:Point 1 - Benvolio will be home in 10 minutes, give or take.Point 2 - There are three tiny kittens scrambling around their lovely new shared apartment.Point 3 - Benvolio is horribly, terribly, painfully allergic to cats.Okay. He can work with this.
Relationships: Juliet Capulet/Romeo Montague, Mercutio/Benvolio Montague
Comments: 12
Kudos: 50
Collections: Romeo & Juliet / Romeo et Juliette Fanfic Exchange 2019





	A Gentle Dusting of Kittens

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whomstdvelyyaintntediessyes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whomstdvelyyaintntediessyes/gifts).



> Essentially, a modern AU in which Romeo and Juliet secretly get married, their families find out and (somehow) reconcile, and plan a proper ceremony for them.

**_December 14th. 4pm. The streets of Verona._ **

A gentle dusting of snow blankets the city. Fairy lights twinkle in the windows of the shops Benvolio passes as he walks the not-yet-familiar route to the apartment he shares with Mercutio. _Life_ , he thinks, _is pretty good._ His desperately lovesick cousin is set to have a proper wedding ceremony in a week (maybe, just maybe, that’ll stop him talking in _sonnets_ ); his aunt and uncle have been so busy stressing about the arrangements that they barely batted an eyelid when he told them he was moving in with Mercutio; and since then they’ve not had to invite anyone over but Valentine, and, once, Romeo and Juliet (who have since been banned for making-out-on-the-couch-during-Mario-Kart crimes.)

_-_

_Messages: Benvolio Montague and Mercutio Escalus_

_Benvolio: Hey love, I’ll be back in about 10 mins x_

_sent at 4:01pm_

**_December 14th. 4:01pm. Benvolio and Mercutio’s apartment._ **

A gentle dusting of kittens blankets the apartment. 

There are three of them, obviously siblings, barely two weeks old. Two are soft shades of grey and white, mewling as they scramble around the (shiny, new) kitchen table with what even Mercutio would describe as _reckless abandon_. The third is smaller and ginger and silent, curled up in the corner of the sofa as her siblings play, and she is the only one to react when Mercutio’s phone pings. He laughs and apologises - makes a point of explaining that the only reason his phone isn’t on silent is that Benvolio sometimes gets upset, worried, if he doesn’t reply quickly - and picks it up to read the message.

-

_Messages: Benvolio Montague and Mercutio Escalus_

_Benvolio: Hey love, I’ll be back in about 10 mins x_

_sent at 4:01pm_

_Mercutio: ok great!_

_sent at 4:01pm_

-

 _Well damn_ , he thinks. Time for a quick mental review of the situation:

Point 1 - Benvolio will be home in 10 minutes, give or take.

Point 2 - There are three tiny kittens scrambling around their lovely new shared apartment.

Point 3 - Benvolio is horribly, terribly, painfully allergic to cats.

_Okay. He can work with this._

One of the kittens on the table (the one that Mercutio’s mentally named Snowflake) is dangerously close to pushing the other (Sugar, he’s decided) off the table, and Mercutio isn’t really sure at what age cats learn to land on their feet. After some quick mental calculations, he realises that two healthy kittens and an injured one would probably inspire a worse reaction from Benvolio than three healthy ones, and so he swoops in (in what he would describe as a _rather heroic fashion_ ) to scoop Sugar up before her brother can achieve his nefarious goal. 

But back to the problem at hand - the one with the kittens and the boyfriend and the allergies. _Think_ , he tells himself, _of what you normally do when you’re in trouble._

A second passes. Two. Three. Snowflake sneezes. Four. Five

_Of course._

-

_Messages: Mercutio Escalus and Romeo Montague_

_Mercutio: BRO_

_Mercutio: ROMEO_

_Mercutio: BROMEO_

_Mercutio: I NEED YOU_

_sent at 4:02pm_

_read at 4:02 pm_

_Mercutio: BRO THIS IS URGENT_

_Mercutio: DETACH URSELF FROM JULIET PLS_

_Romeo: bro…….. what????_

_Mercutio: oh thank god_

_Mercutio: i have three kittens in our apartment and ben’s gonna be home in 8 minutes_

_Mercutio: make that 7 minutes_

_Romeo: omg... i should get juliet a kitten!!!_

_Romeo: could we have kittens at the wedding_

_Mercutio: ENGAGE YOUR BRAIN FOR ONCE MONTAGUE I HAVE A PROBLEM HERE_

_Romeo: …?_

_Mercutio: ben’s super allergic to cats bro_

_Romeo: OH_

_Romeo: oh god merc you screwed up_

_Mercutio: WHAT DO I DO??!_

_sent at 4:03pm_

_read at 4:04pm_

_Mercutio: u better be coming up with a rlly good plan, montague_

_sent at 4:07pm_

_read at 4:09pm_

_Romeo: lol idk bro…… good luck_

_Mercutio: IM GONNA END YOU_

_sent at 4:10pm_

He needs a plan. Immediately.

**_December 14th. 4:11pm. Benvolio and Mercutio’s apartment._ **

Mercutio is one of those people who makes a lot of noise, all the time. He sings as he showers, whistles as he washes the dishes, talks nonsense to himself or anyone else who’ll listen at any opportunity. It’s for this reason that Benvolio cycles through a range of emotions after spending ten whole seconds in the apartment without hearing a sound: confusion turns to concern to deep-seated suspicion. He shrugs off his coat and spends thirty seconds wrestling valiantly with his snow-covered boots, before giving up and accepting the inevitable mucky marks he’ll leave. Then, slowly, with caution befitting of a man approaching a hungry lion, he opens the living room door. He sees nothing. His fear grows. 

**_December 14th. 4:13pm. Benvolio and Mercutio’s bedroom._ **

Oh God. 

Mercutio is crouched between the bedroom door and the bed, three squirming kittens cradled in his arms.

This is fine.

**_December 14th. 4:16pm. Benvolio and Mercutio’s apartment._ **

Benvolio checks off each room of the apartment with the efficiency of a military operation. Living room: clear. Kitchen: clear. Bathroom: clear. That leaves only the bedroom. Deep breath. He briefly considers Nutella warpaint. He decides against it.

**_December 14th. 4:17pm. Benvolio and Mercutio’s bedroom._ **

The footsteps are drawing nearer. The end approaches. Mercutio sighs. Sugar mewls pitifully in what he tells himself is solidarity, but judging by the claws digging into his forearm is probably a Braveheart-style cry for _“FREEDOM!”_

**_December 14th. 4:17pm. Benvolio and Mercutio’s bedroom._ **

Benvolio knocks three times ( _nice and authoritative_ , he thinks approvingly) before opening the door. 

He had prepared himself for many sights: death, destruction, disaster. Mercutio sitting on the floor with an armful of kittens was not one of them. 

“Mercutio.”

“Benvolio.”

“You have all of ten seconds before I start freaking out to explain why there are three cats, which you _know_ I am extremely allergic to, in our apartment.”

“Well, you see, my beloved-”

Benvolio raises an eyebrow.

“I was walking home earlier this afternoon when I heard the most _piteous_ little meows.”

Mercutio pauses to attempt to imitate said meows. Benvolio is not impressed.

“And so I followed the noise to its source, and, lo and behold, I found three tiny kittens, shivering in the snow.”

“And, of course, you couldn’t just… call someone who could actually take care of them.”

“It seemed like the right thing to do.” Mercutio says, very softly, as Spice (still tiny and ginger and timid) gives a pathetic mewl.

Benvolio sighs as emphatically as he can, but judging by the look on Mercutio’s face, his boyfriend is fully aware that he’s already been forgiven.

**_December 14th. 4:19pm. Benvolio and Mercutio’s bedroom._ **

Slowly, it begins to dawn on Mercutio.

_This is not the day I am going to die._

Benvolio looks confused, a little disappointed, but not furious. He also looks like he wants the kittens to not be near their bed, so Mercutio stands up and moves towards the door. He realises that although Sugar is still struggling valiantly and Spice continues to make feeble little noises, Snowflake has fallen asleep (presumably exhausted by his earlier power struggle with Sugar). As quietly as he can - he imagines waking up a kitten is like disturbing a sleeping baby - he steals into the kitchen and deposits them in the large cardboard box he’d decided could be theirs when he first brought them home, a remnant from when he moved in. They settle down quickly enough, and so he turns to face Benvolio, who looks like he’s occupying an uncomfortable mental space somewhere between _really fond_ and _monumentally annoyed_.

"You see,” Mercutio says with a grin, “we could be good cat parents!”

Benvolio rolls his eyes.

“ _Maybe_ , if it weren’t for the fact that-”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re allergic. But you’d be sick, not _dying._ Just look at them, Ben, and tell me that you don’t want to take care of them.”

“I’m not saying they’re not cute, but seriously? Sometimes you don’t remember to feed _yourself,_ never mind three kittens as well.”

Mercutio sighs, but doesn’t protest.

“Well,” he says after a moment’s pause, “what are we going to do with them then?”

Slowly, something seems to dawn on Benvolio, and Mercutio looks at him expectantly.

“I know exactly who to ask.”

-

_Messages: Benvolio Montague and Juliet Capulet_

_Benvolio: Hi J! Hope you’re doing well and the preparations are coming along well :)_

_Benvolio: I was just wondering if you happen to know anyone who would happily take care of a kitten_

_Benvolio: or two_

_Benvolio: or three_

_Juliet: hi!_

_Juliet: i hope i never have to plan another “wedding” in my life lol_

_Juliet: i’m not gonna think too hard about where the kittens came from_

_Juliet: but_

_Juliet: now that you mention it_

_Juliet: i think i know just the right person_

**_December 15th. 10am. Outside the Capulet residence._ **

The gentle dusting of snow grew into a blizzard overnight, and by the time Benvolio and Mercutio are standing outside the imposing oak doors they know all too well (Benvolio holding the cardboard box full of kittens, after Mercutio proved himself too gangly and too reckless to be trusted in icy conditions), they’re soaked up to their shins and totally numb. It’s Mercutio who knocks, as on his guard as he’s ever been around the palatial building the Capulets call home. He knows Juliet told Tybalt to expect them at this time, but he also knows all too well that the situation could turn in a matter of seconds. He just hopes the kittens don’t get hurt.

Tybalt glares at them in his customary fashion, scowls at the wet tracks their boots leave on the lovely carpet, and grimaces as he lets them into what must surely be his room, but he doesn’t say anything. He takes the box from Benvolio (who seems to be feeling exactly as uncomfortable being in Tybalt’s private space as Mercutio is) and peers into it, and Mercutio could swear that he sees Tybalt’s expression soften just a little. After a moment, he gently sets it down on the dark wooden floor, and scoops up one of the kittens.

“That’s Snowflake.” Mercutio blurts out before he can think better of it.

“Snowflake.” Tybalt repeats drily.

Mercutio nods. He can’t back down now.

“The other grey and white one is Sugar, and the ginger one is Spice.”

Benvolio is giving him one of those looks that means _shut the hell up right this second_.

“Not that you have to, uh, keep those names. It’s up to you.” Verona’s resident peacemaker ( _and only sane man_ , he would often complain) fell into his role once again.

“Yeah, you could name them Destroyer, Terror, and Vengeance!” Mercutio adds with not insignificant glee.

Tybalt is looking right at him.

“Anyway, we have to go. Right now. Things to do, people to see, you know how it is.”

Mercutio lets himself be dragged from the room by a very irate Benvolio.

**_December 21st. 7:32 pm. Romeo and Juliet’s “wedding” reception._ **

The ceremony had been undeniably beautiful. Although they were, technically speaking, already married, Romeo had cried with some mixture of excitement and nerves beforehand, and had burst into tears again the moment he set eyes on Juliet.

 _Well, fair enough,_ Benvolio had thought. She had looked stunning - _of course she did, idiot, have you seen her_ , he thinks - carrying a delicate arrangement of flowers, soft blue iris bound to deep red roses. Naturally, no one had missed the symbolism, and watching Romeo and Juliet holding hands in front of the Friar, Mercutio looking on from by Romeo’s side, Benvolio had maybe, potentially, _possibly_ shed a tear or two. Maybe.

Now, standing with a glass in his hands and Mercutio by his side, he sees Capulet red and Montague blue mix. He can see his aunt and Juliet’s mother on the other side of the room, laughing as their husbands try to outdrink one another and congratulating themselves on their _superb_ decoration. Mercutio is telling him about something or other - an old school friend, the last time Benvolio tuned in - but he’s a little zoned out, thinking about how far they’ve come and all the rest of it. Zoned out enough, apparently, that he doesn't notice someone approaching them until Mercutio gently taps his forearm. He's startled out of his own thoughts and looks up to see Tybalt standing in front of them, his customary scowl stuck to his face but somehow a little softer than usual. Benvolio manages a smile that he hopes is welcoming rather than confrontational, and stifles a laugh when he sees Mercutio's face of concentration, his eyebrows furrowed and his jaw set. He suspects the thing Mercutio’s concentrating so hard on his simply _not picking a fight_.

"I-"

Tybalt starts speaking and then cuts himself off, closing his eyes as if he's trying to remember a script he's prepared himself.

"I wanted to say thank you for, uh, bringing the kittens to me."

He looks as though the words _thank you_ burnt his tongue, and Mercutio smirks.

"Are you hearing this, Benvolio? Tybalt Capulet apologising? What has this world come to?”

Benvolio shoots him a warning glance, but Tybalt seems fairly relaxed about the whole affair.

"Well, we owe you one for taking them. What did you decide to call them, in the end?"

Tybalt stiffens, and Benvolio internally curses. _Of course_ , he thinks, _the names of some kittens is going to be the topic that leads to a fight at my cousin's wedding._

"Come on then, Prince of Cats, we're all dying to hear what your subjects are called."

Tybalt flushes, and Benvolio's not sure whether it's from anger or embarrassment.

"I... I kept the names you gave them."

Despite his best efforts, Benvolio lets out a choked laugh which he quickly disguises as a cough.

Mercutio displays no such tact.

"You mean to say," he begins, his voice filled with glee, "that the great Tybalt Capulet, feared all through the streets of Verona, capable of mastering any weapon he so chooses-"

"No one has _ever_ claimed that." Tybalt interrupts.

"- has three tiny kittens called Snowflake, Sugar, and Spice."

A second's silence stretches into two, then three.

Finally, Tybalt replies.

"Yes."

The look on his face is so serious that Benvolio can’t help but laugh, and once he starts he can’t stop, and when Romeo and Juliet wander over, arm in arm, they find the three of them bent double with laughter.

It looks very much like everything will be okay.

  
  
  
  



End file.
